Page 8 of Suddenly Desired (APEX Billionaires’ Club #2)

ELLIE

“Honestly, Ellie, take the hint and go home.”

Lissa was unloading cups from the dishwasher, drying them with quick, efficient movements before stacking them neatly on the shelf.

The café was empty now, just the hum of the fridge and the occasional clatter of dishes breaking the silence.

Even Josh had slunk off an hour ago, probably to mope somewhere else.

Ellie had scrubbed the tables, mopped the floor — twice — and even deep-cleaned the small bathroom.

She was out of tasks, but she still wasn’t ready to leave.

“Go,” Lissa said again, exasperated. “You’re twenty-seven, Ellie. Don’t waste your life hanging around here.”

Before Ellie could argue, the bell above the door jingled, and a couple strode in.

The man was broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive suit, his hair slicked back.

The woman wore a silk blouse, her lipstick applied with surgical precision.

They looked like they belonged in a high-end bar sipping martinis, not in a tiny indie café that smelled of old books and freshly baked scones.

Ellie straightened. “Good evening, what can I get you?”

The woman didn’t acknowledge her, instead wrinkling her nose as she surveyed the café. “Black coffee. No sugar. But make sure it’s hot. Not lukewarm, not scalding, just . . . hot. Can you remember that?”

Ellie’s hackles rose. She opened her mouth to respond, but the man kissed his wife and then leaned in to Ellie with an easy, almost condescending smirk. “Make that two.”

Ellie forced a polite smile. “Coming right up.”

She turned towards the counter, her fingers clenched around the dish towel with a death grip, her knuckles white.

Lissa noticed instantly. With a sharp tug, she prised the towel from Ellie’s fingers.

“Go,” she whispered, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re done. You’re just getting wound up, and I don’t need you snapping and throwing coffee at the customers.”

Ellie blinked at her. “I wasn’t—”

Lissa arched an eyebrow. “Weren’t you?”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. “Fine. I’m going.”

Lissa smirked. “Damn right you are. And I’d better not see you here before your shift tomorrow. Go do something reckless. Or, I don’t know, fun .”

Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight a small smile. “Define ‘fun’.”

“Literally anything but this.”

Shaking her head, Ellie grabbed her bag and coat, casting one last side-eye at the couple.

It was early evening, and even though the temperature was mild it didn’t seem like dress weather anymore so she kept her uniform on.

Slinging her bag on her shoulder, she marched out of the café, calling a goodbye to Lissa.

She dug her phone out, trying not to notice the depressing lack of text messages — apart from another two from her mum demanding to know how the interview had gone.

Sorry, Mum , she thought, heading off in the direction of her flat. She was just hitting dial when she thumped into something — or someone — solid, the shock of it making her drop her phone.

“Ah, crap, sorry!” she said, flustered, as a low, pained “ Oof” came from the person she’d run into. She crouched down quickly, snatching up her phone. “I wasn’t looking where I was—” She glanced up and froze mid-sentence.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Blake.

He looked different, dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, the shadows of his hood and his aviators obscuring part of his face, but there was no denying it was him.

Her body recognised him before her brain did, a rush of heat creeping up her neck.

He rubbed his stomach, wincing slightly, but his lips quirked into a lazy half-smile that sent her pulse into overdrive.

“We really should stop meeting like this,” he said, his voice soft and laced with humour.

Ellie blinked hard, her brain short-circuiting. “What are you . . . ?” she stammered. “I mean, why . . . How . . . ?”

Was she hallucinating? She’d been thinking about Blake all afternoon, and now here he was, like some impossible hoodie-clad mirage.

Her words refused to cooperate, leaving her scrambling for something to say.

Meanwhile, her traitorous eyes drank him in, noting how well the hoodie fit over the curve of his chest muscles and strained somewhat over his biceps, the way his jeans fit him just a little too well.

Casual Blake was somehow more dangerous than Suit Blake.

He tilted his head slightly. “Hi,” he said.

“Uh . . .” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said again, giving her a smile.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, wondering if he’d somehow used his Heartbook billions to track her down. “How did you know where I . . . ?”

Blake pulled something from the back pocket of his jeans, holding it out to her. Her pink notebook.

Her eyes widened and she almost slapped a hand to her head again, only just managing to stop herself — she’d already made a complete fool of herself in front of him, twice, and her embarrassment was burning hotter with each second.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, his tone easy, but there was something in his smile, warm and deliberate, that made her stomach flip.

“Thank you so much.” She clutched the notebook like it was a buoy. “You have no idea what it means to me to have this back.”

“It’s really not a problem,” he said, low and steady. “It’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I found you.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur.

“You didn’t, um, read it, did you?”

“No,” he said, and Ellie barely had time to be relieved before he added, “I mean, I tried not to, I didn’t read it, not like a book or anything, but I wasn’t sure who it belonged to, so I glanced at it. Not all of it, just enough. Just a couple of pages.”

He was blushing too, she saw, and it made her heart skip a beat.

It softened his handsomeness to something a little more approachable, adorable even.

The idea that Blake Fielding, billionaire and global icon was as nervous as she was felt almost impossible, especially given her self-proclaimed moniker of Ellie Mae Woodward, Queen of Nobodies.

But here he was, fidgeting slightly, hands in pockets, looking like he wanted to apologise all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” she said, her tone light but her pulse doing backflips. “You made up for it by bringing it back.”

They fell into silence, eyes snagged on each other.

Something raw tugged in her stomach as the silence grew with a buzz of energy that promised so much.

She was aware of the small gap between them, fully charged and vibrating so that it made her ears ring.

The ringing sounded like a voice in her ear.

Which was weird, when Ellie started to think about it.

The voice sounded familiar, and was incessantly calling her name.

She suddenly realised that it wasn’t the anticipation of something between her and Blake — it was an actual voice.

Her mum. Lifting her phone to her ear, Ellie heard her mum hollering down it.

“Ellie? Ellie, are you there?”

“Oh, Mum, hey, I’m sorry,” she said, fumbling her words. “Give me a minute, I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t you dare—” her mum said, but Ellie ended the call and stuffed the phone back into her bag.

She half wished she’d kept the call going because now she had no idea what to say.

And from the look on his face, neither did Blake.

The realisation was both intimidating and nauseating.

Ellie knew the odds of her blurting out something daft were pretty high.

She’d probably crack an inappropriate joke, or tell Blake that his face made her feel funny, so when she landed on something totally sensible to say she got it out as quickly as she could.

“I owe you a reward.” Her words blended into one long, breathless syllable. “It’s not much, I’m afraid,” she added. “But let me get you a coffee.”

“I was really hoping you were going to say that,” Blake replied, his voice velvety.

“I mean, about having coffee, not you buying me one — though I wouldn’t mind that.

I just don’t want you thinking I expect you to pay.

Or don’t expect you to pay because I can afford it .

. . Do you know what? I think I’m going to stop talking now. Today has messed with my head. Sorry.”

Ellie couldn’t help it. She laughed and Blake faltered, his mouth in a grimace. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m not normally this bad with words.”

“It’s fine,” Ellie replied, glad to have met someone who wittered on as much as she did. “You’re better at it than me. Marginally.”

He tilted his head, studying her with a teasing glint in his eye. “I don’t know about that.”

Before she could reply, he slipped off his sunglasses, tucked them into the neck of his hoodie and fastened his eyes on Ellie.

The ground tilted slightly as she noticed his pupils grew to large black holes in the pools of his irises.

For someone who was struggling with getting his words out, he was still top notch at the whole flirting game.

“I really wouldn’t mind you taking me for one,” he said again, his voice soft. He didn’t look away, not even for a second, and Ellie felt like she might melt into a puddle right there on the pavement.

Trying to keep herself collected, she slid the notebook into her bag and busied herself by fussing with things that really didn’t need fussing with.

Anything to stop herself from drowning in his eyes — as corny as that may sound, they were so blue she felt her cells flooding as she thought it.

Turning back towards the café, she spotted Lissa leaning out the doorway, the dish cloth frozen in her hands. Ellie could see her mouthing, Wow!

Ellie’s cheeks burned, and she glanced back at Blake.

“Uh, I know the reward said Bookworm’s,” she said, “but can we go somewhere else?”

“Anywhere,” he said without hesitation. “You name it.” He popped his lips, looking down the street. “Just maybe not anywhere too public, if that’s okay?”

She nodded, remembering why he was dressed down and out here in disguise.

The pleasant glow she’d felt just moments earlier dimmed slightly as reality set in.

Right now, everyone in the city thought that Blake Fielding was an utter twat, his name plastered across the headlines for all the wrong reasons.

And, for all she knew, they might be right.

But she couldn’t quite reconcile that man, with his outdated, derogatory views, with the guy standing in front of her, no matter what image the press had painted.

She was amazed he’d dared to even leave his office with the pitchforks out baying for blood.

He’d told her he was innocent, and she’d already decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, this might be the perfect opportunity to find out for certain.

“I know the perfect place,” she said, resisting the sudden urge to slide her arm through his. “Just give me a second to call my mum back first.”

Blake smiled, sliding his sunglasses back on his face, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a way that made her stomach flip. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”